


Mutant Ninja Aliens

by wowthatsloud



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowthatsloud/pseuds/wowthatsloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1 story +1 bonus for Troubled Tales 2015.</p><p>1) Tuesday (Duke Crocker/Chris Brody + Nathan Wuornos)<br/>2) Mutant Ninja Aliens (Duke Crocker/Audrey Parker/Nathan Wuornos)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiP/gifts).



“...And then I woke up in the middle of a ditch, barbeque sauce all over my chest, and I thought, dammit! Not again!”

It would normally be considered disproportionate, abnormal, or rude even, the way Nathan kept a neutral facial expression through out Duke’s semi-lengthy diatribe. Truth be told it probably was, might even have annoyed Duke a little bit, except it was exactly what he needed at that particular time. He could only imagine the cute little smirks if anyone else heard. And considering the dull throb of a headache building behind his eyeballs, commanding his attention whenever he walked, talked or attempted to move, it was really something he could do without that morning.

“He was drinking that much? On a Tuesday, no less.”  
“Like anybody is around to tell him anything other than how _awesome_ and _great_ and _cool_ that is, Chris!” Duke went to mimick what in his mind was one of Chris Brody's many mindless hangers on, but quickly fell silent at realising he had also aped his own voice cadence for what he remembered of last night.

Nathan either didn't notice the abrupt halt in conversation, or didn't care to comment on it. “But this is Brody, you know exactly what he's like,” Nathan said to him. “Of all people I thought you would put a sign up, or something. 'No Chris Brodies Allowed,' that sort of thing.”  
“That asshole knows he's not welcome around these parts or anywhere near me,” Duke tutted. “I've told him as much to his face.” Or, the solid brick wall Duke had to talk to that was in the complete opposite direction of his face he could _not_ make the mistake of looking at, but the message had been the same.

“In any case, we need to get to this guy. He apparently knows our suspect and we need to make contact before the lead goes cold. So,” Nathan began, getting out his pad and pen and being very official Detective Wuornos, “Is there anything more you can tell me about the events of last night?”

 

\--++--

 

Duke was good to hold down the Gull on his own that night, on account of it being a Tuesday, and on top of that a wintry kind of Tuesday with the unseasonably snappy cold that made most head home to thick blankets and loud TV sets as soon as absolutely possible. It meant that hardly anybody was around; the only traffic was the three guys drinking quietly at a table, another lady at a table nearer the door, and a couple in a booth with the man looking concerned and (although he couldn't see her from this angle) the woman in considerable distress.

There was also the guy with the world's worst haircut, sitting alone, right by the far end of the bar. But looking at the monstrosity on his head made Duke throw up in his mouth a little bit, so he tried not to do it. Instead he moved his favourite rag over the veneer of his bar-top, wiping away grime that wasn't really there for lack of anything better to do.

“'Nother top up there, please.” Hideous Hair over by the far end waved his tumbler in Duke's general direction, and Duke reached for the liquor, but then had second thoughts. The guy mumbled his words, but that mumble may have been a slur, and drinking alone on a weeknight always made for a the worst kind of drunk.

“You sure that's a good idea there, buddy?” Duke said easily, moving over to the patron to discern if he'd had enough.  
“Yeah. I think it's a great idea. Pal.” Duke didn't like the aggression in his voice, nor the now very noticeable slur that came with it.  
“You know, maybe it's time to call it a night right about now. I'll call you a cab, get you home safe, you can sit tight right there and-”

“Don't do that.” Blondie's voice was almost a whine at that moment, hilarious if it wasn't so overwhelmingly pathetic. Then - if he wasn’t already outrageously annoying - the customer lurched forward and made a grab for the bottle of liquor still in Duke's hand. He didn't come close, but Duke was nowhere near in the mood to play like that.  
“Do not.” Duke snapped, teeth gritted at the out of shape man. He’d managed to set the bottle down under the counter, and used his free hand to grab the other man's arm - not to hurt him, but to scare him, and hopefully sober him up. He hated to play parent to a grown man like this, but it seemed as if no one else had. Or they'd have steered him away from being the sad drunk alone in a bar on a _Tuesday_ for god’s sake, as well as the disaster that was on top of his head. “Do not make any stupid moves like that again,” snarled Duke, getting right into his face. “Got it?”

Like a scolded child, the customer looked down and away, refusing to engage. “I said, do you hear me?”

He finally looked towards Duke, and a familiar pair of blue eyes clicked with his own. “Wait... Chris?”

The man then let out a noise, which half sounded like frustration, and half sounded like the drawn-out wail of a wounded animal that was dying very, very slowly.

Then, all at once, Duke’s entire demeanour transformed. “ Oh, wow… I didn't expect to see you here. If I'd known I would have prepared something,” Duke gushed, actually – oh god – beginning to fiddle, smoothing his clothes and checking his nails and being all around nauseating.  
“I knew I should have gone with the sunglasses.” Chris spoke to himself, completely ignoring the person fawning over him, who, in normal circumstances, would sooner do far less kinder things. “Sunglasses hide your face. But only douchebags wear sunglasses indoors Chris – god I am so…”

“It's your hair!” Duke interrupted, finishing his long, adoring appraisal of Chris, coming to a realisation after seemingly not having heard a word of what he’d said. “That's why I didn't recognise you, you look so... different. It's nice.”

Chris almost physically shuddered. The wig he'd picked up yesterday for ten bucks was an atrocity, precisely why he'd chosen it. Yet all Duke saw was, as he would then immediately go on to put it, _‘Modern, kinda edgy. Like a younger Alan Jorgensen.’_ Like Chris was meant to know who the hell that was.

He hated that his cover had been blown. Chris had seen what Duke had been like before he’d realised it was him, occasionally glancing at his corner of the bar, looking like he’d smelled something nasty. He’d probably be the same way if he was able to – if not automatically kicking him out on sight as he half-recalled Duke threatening to do one time, addressing him but angrily gesturing to a nearby brick wall (and in fact, that was part of what had made Chris come here today. There was a perverse sort of thrill to drinking another man’s liquor, in his own bar, knowing he didn’t want you there.)

(The other part was he _really_ needed to get shit-faced drunk today, and the other place was simply too far out.)

But this was Haven, which meant that Duke was now looking at him the way teenage girls look at famous pop-stars, and now the allure was gone. He was even beginning to lose a bit of his buzz.  
“Forget this,” he groaned, grabbing his jacket. He’d grab a few beers at McHugh’s, it was far but at least that place was always too dim to tell who the fuck anyone was anyways. He’d had a terrible day as it was, he didn’t need the constant awkwardness that was his life here catching up to him.

“Wait, stay.” A part of Duke could hear his desperation, the inflection of his voice coming to a near whine, and that part desperately wanted to break out, scream at and/or slap himself in the face repeatedly, something, anything to snap him out of the incredibly sad figure he was painting. But the part that currently held control smiled an eager, oafish grin, and insisted. “You just got here. Come on.”

Chris was getting ready to split, deciding to instead commemorate the end of this miserable day in relative peace at his place. But then he got an idea. “Actually,” he said, “Truth is I’ve had a really bad day.”

The look Duke gave him at that was so heartbroken, Chris had to fight the overwhelming urge to laugh. Or cry. He wasn’t sure, the whiskey wasn’t exactly out of his system yet.

“A friend of mine has been having some problems, actually.” he managed to continue. “I’ve been wanting to help him out but there’s only so much I can do alone, you know?” And on this side of the law, which Crocker’s smuggling connections would help handily with.

 

Nathan sat there the entire time at the bar stool, actually only a few places over from where Chris Brody had sat the previous night. He listened intently, not interrupting or moving, except once quickly to check a message that came in on his phone partway (Duke felt a petty envy at not having his undivided attention, even if it was only just a second, but Nathan _was_ a cop on duty, technically speaking.)

He stayed stock still throughout the entire recount, even at the part with the grocery store assistant with the creepy sock and the. But he supposed living in Haven, you kind of built an immunity against all things weird.

“…then we wanted to bring it back, but by the time we had gotten there I guess the dog had eaten it already.”  
Nathan nodded once, showing his understanding. “So that was why you had the barbeque. As a counter-baiting tactic.”  
Duke said the last words at the same time with him. “Exactly. That’s what it would have been for, right? So I guess what I’m trying to say is… what I’m trying to say…” Duke paused, absently scratching a spot on his forehead and trying to bring the rant/story that had taken up the better part of an hour to a close. The persistent headache that thrummed behind his eyes helped matters none.

“You wanted to point out anything that could lead us to our suspect that was seen with Chris Brody around the same time you were with him.”  
Duke snapped his fingers. “Right. And?” He smiled.  
Nathan actually smiled back at him, which was surprising, not to mention _rare_. “He handed himself in at the station about a half hour ago, Parker just told me now.” He waved his handset at Duke tellingly, the seemingly innocuous beeping from earlier actually a sign of the impending irrelevance that _Tales of a Brainwashed Crocker_ would hold. But the smile on Nathan’s face was growing now, actually a flat out grin, and Duke was glad someone could get amusement from it. Because it was a Wednesday morning, his bar was empty, and all he wanted to do was go back to bed and forget the whole thing had ever happened.

And then maybe go out for some drinks sometime, but properly this time, and not in the Trouble-induced stupor that had made him follow Chris Brody blindly but still, surprisingly, have an uncalled for amount of fun.

And maybe do something a little wilder, too. Because the honest truth was, last night still wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d done on a Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Started watching 'Orange is the New Black' and I simply had to use the line.


	2. Mutant Ninja Aliens

He stumbled, running wildly through the vast darkness of the shadowy forest, hoping against hope that he would make it. The sharp crack of fear had had propelled his escape, snowballing momentum to will himself to make it out of there, somehow, alive, but now the weight of exhaustion began to weigh on his body constricting his lungs and cementing his limbs to lumps. 

A pair of blue eyes shimmered in the growing darkness, bearing and unloading tears that cut through the grime on his skin and fell to the floor.

Then he fet something stir behind him. Then he began to scream.

“Oh okay, god, _no_.” Audrey held an outstretched hand up to the television screen, blocking her view and wishing it out of existence. As the mutant imapaled the last human survivor of their thrilling Sunday night viewing, Duke laughed and pointed the remote over to turn it off as it faded to credits.

“Oh, come on Audrey,” Duke grinned. He, as usual, was in jovial spirits. “The point of watching these was to make fun of how bad they are. It's all ketchup and prosthetics, and really bad acting.”

“Sounds like my tenth birthday party,” Nathan said somberly from his corner of the couch.

“Being make believe doesn't make it any less gross. And besides, I don't see the point in watching horror movies living in Haven, of all places. Some of these scenes hit disturbingly close to home,” she said.

“What, like the one with the vegetables, and the disappearing llama?”

“Uh-huh.”

They both shuddered.

"I guess, you could say, there's still something soothing about it." Nathan reached over and took the DVD out of Duke's hand as he sat down, examining the front and back. "As bad as things sometimes get here, at least we're not the ones being impaled by mutant ninja aliens right now." His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Not yet, at least."

"Plus, it's fucking funny," Duke added.  
Nathan nodded. It was also fucking funny.

But that wasn't the predominant mood when they put the next film on, huddling underneath an old blanket that smelled indescribably like home to the three of them. It was the tentative, vulnerable realisation that as far as Sunday nights went, even with the terrible, indescribable horribleness that they were surrounded with in Haven, that the coming week would probably throw at them with all it had... what they had, right there, with all of the starts and half-gasps and cringing at the awful movie flickering on the screen in front of them was not a bad way to spend time at all. In fact, it was pretty damn great.

**Author's Note:**

> Started watching 'Orange is the New Black' and I simply had to use the line.


End file.
